The Abandonment of Fate
by all-uu-need-is-love
Summary: "His eyes, I recognized, were the color of the sea. Green, beautiful emerald green." She never really knew him, only from afar.
1. The Reaping

"ELECA BRIMSEL"

My name rung out all around me, like someone had clashed two pans in front of my eyes. Everyone stared, gaping, gawking, waiting for me to either stand up or faint like Isadora Gislee had last year when she was reaped. Like most of the tributes from District 4, she never returned home.

Next to me, a girl from school who I had never truly taken the time to get to know poked me in the ribs and gestured to the stage. Maya Reynolds, the renowned District 4 escort was watching me with a tight grin.

"Come along, now, sweetheart," she said into the microphone, holding her hand out. The girl next to me gave me a gentle push to get me moving, and suddenly, I was walking, walking with consent. _No_, I thought. _I don't want to walk. I don't want to reach the stage. I don't __**want**__ to become a tribute_. Because as soon as my foot tapped the first step onto the stage, I was no longer Eleca Brimsel, quirky girl from District 4. Now I was Eleca Brimsel, District 4 tribute, sent to her demise.

Maya pulled me up on stage and did me the mercy of not commenting on my long delay. She only smiled and directed me to the center of the stage, that way I was able to see my entire district staring back at me with sympathetic eyes. I heard Maya speak into the microphone.

"Now, Eleca, how old are you, dear?"

I noticed she looked better from afar. Up close, with her breath hot and minty in my face, her blue hair looked fried and her overly dramatic mermaid make-up was comical. Maya was strange like that; she was always dressing to fit our district. Last year, she had been a dolphin, but this year, she had gone for the mermaid look. I tried to stare past her extremely long green eyelashes.

"Fifteen," I said so quietly, Maya held the mic to my mouth and instructed me to speak again. "Fifteen," I repeated into the mic. A few people shook their heads in pity.

"What a brilliant age," Maya exclaimed, grinning out at the crowd. Nobody smiled back. After a few moments of this strange situation-Maya chuckling and my district glaring-she waltzed over to the glass bowl and dipped her hand carelessly in.

"And now, for our brave boy tribute." She lifted out a parchment, and our district held their breath. I eyed my brother, Troy, from where the seventeen-year-olds were lined up. He was staring down and holding back sobs, his light blonde hair sticking to his forehead in the sweltering heat of the sun. Whether he was upset that I had been chosen or that his name was entered 48 times, I was not sure.

"Finnick Odair!"

My heart lifted; Troy's name had not been called, nor had my best friend Aleca Pillota. But then I registered exactly whose name _had_ been called, and my hopes were crushed. _Finnick Odair_. I watched as he sauntered coolly up to the stage, much different from my awkward attempt at holding back. He was younger than me by about a year, but still taller and much, much stronger. Maya greeted him ten times more cheerily than she had with me, most likely because of his gorgeous looks. Everyone swooned at him, even the adults. He was just too handsome not to.

"Mr. Odair," She said, wrapping her arm around him and pulling him next to me. I felt awkward; I had never associated with Finnick, but I had watched from afar. Not like _that_, more out of curiosity. _What was it like to be Finnick Odair, to be worshiped wherever you walked_? He had always sat across from me at lunch, always with the same people, for at least six years. No, I didn't know Finnick personally, but I knew him vaguely. I knew his habits, like the way he never really would fully grin, but give a half smile. Or how when he was nervous, he'd always rake one hand through his copper colored hair. I watched as did so now, smoothing his hair back until one of the girls close to the stage sighed. Maya went on in a suddenly very-oh-so-interested tone.

"How old are you, sweetie?"

"Fourteen." He didn't even need a mic; he just spoke out into the audience, his voice spilling through them in one suave wave.

A few of the adults looked dismayed; Despite his gorgeous looks, Finnick was still young, and I was only a year older. The tributes this year were young, and the games were always ten times more painful when the kids were younger.

Maya grinned at the both of us, her coral painted lips curling up to reveal white teeth.

"Well," she concluded. "District 4, I give you your tributes for the 64th Annual Hunger Games!"

Finnick looked at me, and I at him. He recognized me, I could tell from the way his smile faltered. He quickly recovered and picked it back up, holding his hand out to me and shaking. His skin was soft and gentle, smoothened out from years of swimming in the salt water. _Salt water_. His eyes, I recognized, were the color of the sea. Green, beautiful emerald green. It made my heart tighten.

Maya's arms were suddenly around us both, and she was breaking apart, smiling deftly into the crowd.

"May the odds," she began, imitating a poor British accent like all the escorts tried to do. "be ever in your favor."

I took one last look at the crowd, _my district_, the sea line in the distance and the smell of salt and sand. Troy was watching me from the ground, his blue eyes welling up with tears, and Aleca couldn't even meet my eyes. They were all there, crying for us and smiling that they were safe another year, all that noise, all those emotions, all building inside of me-and then they were gone as I exited the stage into a dark, closed in room.


	2. Hopelessly Dark

My mother rushed in to me, tears streaming down her already sunburned face. She took me up in her arms and sobbed.

"Oh my dear," She cried, not even giving the rest of my family a chance to see me. "You're so young!"

I tried to contain my own tears by plastering a petty smile across my face.

"I'll be okay, Ma," I told her softly. "I'm strong. I've been swimming since I was three."

"But what if the arena turns out to be a desert?" Troy piped up from behind my mother, truly concerned. He was starting to look frantic. "You'll be like a fish out of water, Elle. What will you do?"

"There'll have to be water somewhere, even if it is a desert," I replied, trying to answer as quickly as I could.

Troy shook his head as silver tears began to stream down his lightly freckled face. "What if it's like that one year-62nd games, I think-where the only way they could get water was through sponsors?"

"Then I'll get sponsors!" I shrieked, finally breaking as sobs poured from me. He was upsetting me by throwing all these virtually catastrophic situations at me. "I'll...I'll find away."

"Elle." Troy gazed at me with pitying eyes. He didn't think I would make it.

"I can win it," I insisted, wiping my stinging eyes and pushing through my mother's embrace. "I know I can."

My father smiled gently from beside me brother. He had always encouraged Troy to volunteer to the games, said it would make him proud. But me-Dad had never wanted me to be in the games, partly because of how petite and lightweight I was. He said that when I swam, I literally bobbed to the surface like a float because I was so light.

"Eleca," Father said softly. It was like none of them expected me to win, like I was weak or something. This made my sadness dissolve and anger flourish. I was strong. I _could_ do this.

"Don't pity me," I said clearly, standing up. "I can do this. There was that fifteen-year-old girl that won a few years back, and no one expected her to. Remember?"

"There have been young victors," Troy admitted, but still looked dismal. "But it's rare, Elle. You're going against eighteen-year-old killing machines."

"I'm fast," I said. "I'm quick and swift."

"You are."

A guard poked his head through the door and grimly announced, "Three more minutes."

My mother started sobbing again, and my brother was in a frenzy. Three more minutes, and they thought they'd never see me again. The fact that my own family had no faith in me scarred my heart, but then someone else entered through the door.

Aleca.

"Hey champ," He said, opening up his arms. I collapsed into him, ignoring my family's funny stares.

"I'm not a champ," I murmured, burying my head into the crook of his neck. His dark brown hair brushed the edge of my face and tickled my cheeks. "I feel dead."

"Why?" Aleca pulled away to stare into my eyes. He seemed sincere. "You get to spend, what, like whole two weeks training with _the_ Finnick Odair. Most girls would kill to be in your position."

"That's the problem." I shook my head. "I don't think I _can_ kill to be in this position."

"You don't need to kill," Aleca said, grabbing my shoulders. "You just need to outlast everyone else."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, just _hide_ if you can. If there's caves, hide in them. If you're near trees, try to climb them-"

"I can't climb trees," I laughed bitterly. "I can't even start a fire."

"Then _learn_." Aleca's big brown eyes were somber and bold. They stirred such a feeling in me, I knew I was blushing. The same guard stepped back into the room.

"Time's up," He said, completely impassive. I stared frantically at Aleca as he was ripped away from me.

"You can do it, Elle," he said, struggling against the guards. "You just have to wait them out-" He was gone, and soon, my sobbing family was being pushed out with him.

"I love you, Eleca!" Troy called, crying. "I'll be praying for-"

Then there was silence, complete and utter silence, like the entire world was holding its breath. But it wasn't...I was the only one holding my breath.

"It's quite a nice change from the facilities you are used to, I imagine," Maya said dismissively as she lead Finnick and I to the main cabin of the train. It was wondrous and beautiful, with more goblets of beverages and plates of exotic foods than I had ever seen in my entire life. There were bowls that brimming with fruits and pastries, snacks and cheeses. I had never been bombarded by so many strange but delightful aromas before in my entire life, and by the astounded look on Finnick's handsome face, I could tell he felt the same.

Maya smiled at our gawking expressions and settled down on one of the red couches. "Now come and sit, you two must be starving."

We obeyed instantly, avoiding each other's eyes as we sat down on the plush cushions of the couch. Neither of us really wanted to look at the other, for in a week or two, we would be each other's enemies, sworn to death. We were both young and determined to win. Maya increased the tension by addressing our stand-offish attitudes with each other.

"You might as well become acquainted," She said, waving her hands about. "It won't hurt to have a friend once you're in the arena."

When neither of us spoke, she cleared her throat and pushed Finnick closer to me, smiling. "Well go on, introduce yourselves!"

It seemed pointless to have us shake hands again, considering we both knew each other vaguely, but Maya pressed on until eventually, Finnick sighed and held out his hand once again to me.

"Finnick," He said as I took his warm hand. "Finnick Odair."

"Eleca Brimsel," I replied, trying not to gap at how much gorgeous he was up close. But without a crowd present to charm, he seemed rather annoyed and bothered at the fact of having to be here with me. So I went on to try and loosen up the mood.

"You can call me Elle," I told him as we released our grip. "That's what my family calls me."

He smirked slightly as if he was humored by my nickname, but didn't reply.

_Dammit_, I thought. _Why does he want to make me feel like an idiot_?

"Do you have a nickname?" I asked, feeling more stupid and girlish than I ever had. I truly hoped he didn't mistake my 'friendliness' as a certain interest in him.

"I do," he answered, his green eyes flickering down.

"What is it?"

"Doesn't matter." he shrugged. "Only my girlfriend calls me by my nickname anyway."

There was a jab at my heart. _Girlfriend_? So he had mistaken my attempt to make friends with him as sudden interest. I should've known he had a girlfriend. He _was_ Finnick Odair. Funny enough, however, I hadn't heard any rumors about Finnick's girlfriend. Usually, if two people started dating, word spread and rumors flew faster than the snap of your fingers. When Troy started dating his girlfriend, Erika, it seemed like the entire world knew about it, and suddenly word was 'Troy's been sneaking to the swimming hole with Erika late at night,' and 'Troy and Erika skipped eighth period to make out behind the school'. Troy wasn't even that popular, but if _Finnick_ had a girlfriend, _everyone_ would be talking about it. They'd be like a celebrity couple.

So why would he keep his girlfriend a secret?

"Girlfriend?" I asked before I even thought about it. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

"Well I do." He seemed aggravated by my question.

"Who is it?"

"None of your business."

We were now both on edge, vexed at each other. Maya sensed the change of mood and awkwardly arose, fixing down her sequined mermaid skirt with one manicured hand.

"I suppose I'll go find your mentor, Mags. She'll be eager to begin, I suppose."

She exited through a sliding brown door, leaving both Finnick and I fixed in such a strange situation. Finally Finnick arose and huffed.

"I'm hungry," he said as he wandered by the buffet table and picked up a plate. I watched as he piled his plate with custard-filled rolls and ham and cheese sandwiches. He balanced the plate in one arm as he scooped himself a bowl of fresh tomato soup. When he plopped back down, he immediately began to take a bite out of a sandwich. I watched him, confused at how he could even have an appetite in a dark time like this.

"How are you hungry?" I asked him. He licked his lips and took another bite of the sandwich.

"I haven't eaten _real_ food in like, three days," he replied, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "You know how we usually have a food shortage before the reaping. Besides, I went swimming this morning before the ceremonies, so I'm starved."

"But we're being sent to our deaths! How can you _eat_?"

Finnick snorted obnoxiously as he threw a roll back down on his plate.

"_You_ may be expecting death," he said plainly. "But _I_ plan to win this."

"Don't be stupid," I answered, lolling my head back. "You're fourteen. You're just a kid. You won't make it past the cornucopia."

"Yes I will." he sipped on his soup quietly, not meeting my eyes. "I'm prepared."

"Finnick." I leaned forward and forced him to meet my eyes. It was strange saying his name directly, for he had only ever existed as a shadow before the reaping. "Eighteen-year-olds _die_ in this competition. Children are slaughtered on television for the world to see. No one is spared, Finnick. Not even the determined."

He grunted once at reached for the T.V remote, resting his feet on the coffee table before us. "Let's see if the other district reaping's are on yet."

Changing the subject. Of course. I had to admit, I preferred the Finnick that had smiled suavely at the crowd back on stage in 4 rather than this impertinent boy who thought too much fondly of himself.

With the press of a button, the T.V flecked on and the capitol seal was present. They started with District 1. Their escort-I couldn't think of her name-was dressed in a silver dress that fanned out behind her like the tail of a peacock. She called out the female tribute-a young girl, about thirteen, but soon after a brawny, bold girl volunteered and announced herself as Relly Forlayne. The male tribute called was just as scrawny as the original female had been, but as predicted, was soon replaced by a muscular, relentless boy named Theo Marcus. He and Relly shook hands, but seemed ten times more real than the phony exchange Finnick and I had shared.

District 2 was up, and the strangely dressed escort called up a young black haired girl who named herself as Delanee Virtue. The male, Olsen Wynns, matched her sultry exterior, and when they went to shake, he pecked her lightly on the cheek, arousing a cheer from their anxious district.

3 rolled by, and a twelve-year-old girl was called. Another girl who named herself as Katrina Borse volunteered, who was soon joined by a scrawny freckled kid called Erik Bauer or something like that. And then came the moment when we flickered onto the screen. Both Finnick and I held our breath and stared deftly at the screen, our eyes wide in anxiety. Maya announced my name, and I blushed crimson red as I watched myself struggle on stage, more so when I noticed the way I gawked as Finnick joined me with Maya.

"We look dumb," I breathed. I was surprised when Finnick nodded.

"I look like an idiot," he laughed, but I knew he was truly frightened, because as the two ferocious tributes from 5 scrolled by-Anthea Jones and Raymond Martin, I think-he drew a deep breath and clenched his fists.

"Maybe 6 will have a few losers," he joked, but his eyes were wide with fear. I knew mine were two, for none of the tributes had been younger than sixteen. That made Finnick and I the youngest so far-actually, _he'd_ be the youngest. I could imagine how unnerving that was.

6, however, was little more promising. The female tribute was long and lanky but only my age, which raised my hopes. Her name was something like Opal or Opa-I couldn't understand the escort's squeaky voice. Her fellow male tribute was short and stocky, his voice and low and husky when he murmured his name to be Aiden Shavtzvere. There was a break with the tributes where they slowly disintegrated into scrawny, malnourished beings, even though most were over fifteen. There was one twelve-year-old boy from 9 who nobody volunteered for. I heard Finnick quietly cheer to himself as the young boy made it on stage because, of course, Finnick was no longer the youngest tribute.

There was one muscular boy named Chave Overlaw from 10 who went to the effort to growl on stage. His escort laughed and commented that he truly belonged with the careers, as a joke, of course, but it felt more true than it seemed. As Chave walked off the stage and bared his teeth at the spindly girl named Farrah Lisense who had been reaped, I feared that he _would_ join the careers.

11 managed to enter two kids about our age-the girl, Liza Fenway, looked maybe fourteen, and the boy, Jaque Ontar, only a little older. Finnick and I glanced at each other as the pair shook hands on stage. They seemed strong and hard willed. I wasn't sure whether to classify them as threats or possible allies. I looked at Finnick for some sort of guidance, but he remained impassive and focused on the T.V screen as the two tributes were called from 12. A girl named Alliyah French and a boy named Dayzin Hoackes. Both looked starved and weary, so I immediately cast them out as threats and decided not to even worry about them. Tributes from 12 never won, nor did they ever make it past the cornucopia. With that, the Capital Seal flashed, and Finnick turned the television off. We were both quiet until I unsurely reached over for a custard roll.

"Decided you're hungry?" he laughed, but his voice was unsteady. It looked like a mean batch of competitors this year.

"A bit," I admitted, forcing myself to bite into the roll. It was sweet and flaky, the custard smooth and rich, but I barely seemed to taste it. I just felt dizzy and sick.

"Might as well eat up," he said, grabbing another sandwich. "Could be one of the last times we get to."

His words were grim, but scarily true, and I found myself suddenly feeling very ill. The train cabin was wobbling in front of me, and Finnick had turned into three Finnick's-three _blurry_ Finnick's. The roll in my hand multiplied by four, and I felt warm custard ooze out as I squished it with my bare hand. Finnick's voice echoed inside my head..._Eleca? Eleca? Are you okay?_ The sliding door opened and two silhouettes slunk in, one that resembled a glob of green sequined paint and another who only looked shadowy. Before I could stop myself, I threw up, all over the coffee table.

Happy Hunger Games.


	3. Already Dead

I fell back against the couch and rested my head. Maya shrieked at the sight of vomit, and even Finnick drew back. But the other lady, the older one, rushed to me and felt my forehead. When I came to again, I was staring into a pair piercing blue wrinkled eyes. She was elderly, perhaps late 60's, with grey streaked hair and crinkled skin. She smelt of daffodils and assorted perfumes. I groaned, and the woman spoke.

"Are you alright?" She asked. I shook my head.

"I'm gonna die." It hit me like a rock. I was going to die. There was no way I could topple all those Careers, from District 1's Relly Forlayne to 10's Chave Overlaw. The woman put her hand over mine and fiercely stared.

"You will not die," She insisted, wiping away a tear that had trickled down my face. "You will live, because _I_ will train you."

I lifted my head off the couch and my mentor, Mags, as Maya had called her earlier, fetched a cloth from the nearby buffet table.

"Get some help," she instructed from Maya, and wordlessly, our escort left the room. When she returned, she brought two Avox's who immediately went to work on wiping up my vomit. I felt guilty and embarrassed. I was _weak_, and Finnick had seen it. Thankfully, he only kept his mouth shut and stayed on his side of the couch. After my vomit had been mopped up, Maya handed me some sparkling water and Mags sat down across from us. She looked more like a friendly grandmother than our so-called-determined mentor. She flashed a small smile at us and began.

"You've seen the other reapings, I suppose?"

"Yeah," Finnick answered, stretching his arms over his head. His t-shirt came up a little, and I couldn't help but notice the line of defined muscles that patterned his chest.

"What do you think of your competitors then, Finnick?" Mags leaned forward and made eye contact with Finnick. I wasn't sure whether she was purposely leaving me out or wanted both our individual opinions.

Finnick shrugged. "They're alright."

"C'mon," Mags urged, a glint in her eyes. "What did you think of that boy from 2? What was his name again? Olsen?"

"He looked...weird."

"I need more than that. Give me your real opinion. Did he threaten you? Did you feel more frightened?"

"I dunno." Finnick slumped down in his seat, sighing. "I guess he seemed kind of sly."

"How so?"

"He just looked like the kind of guy who'd be...smart. You know, not just brawn and muscle but...brains, I guess."

"Good," Mags praised him, pleased. "That's a good take on Olsen. Now, Eleca, what did you think of the girl from 11? Liza, I think."

"She was about our age," I replied honestly, meeting Mags's eyes. "She looked strong, but not threatening."

"Are you sure?" Mags raised her grey eyebrows, gesturing at Finnick. "He just made a good point about strength. The tributes from 2 aren't exactly Hercules material, but they're probably smart, sly, manipulative. You can't base a tribute off their looks."

I frowned. "So Liza _is_ a threat?"

"Maybe." Mags was smiling at me, which only confused me further. "That's what I'm asking you. What do you think about the pair from 11, Finnick? Eleca's right; they are about your age. What do you do?"

"If they're from 11, I guess they're pretty familiar with plants and stuff, you know, being farmers."

Mags and I both exchanged a quiet laugh at Finnick's completely boyish attitude.

"That's true," Mags said, grinning. "They probably are. So would you trust them?"

"If they trusted me," Finnick answered, this time dead serious. All this talk of tributes was already making me dizzy again. With my arm shaking, I took a sip of the soda water just as Mags addressed another question.

"What about you, Eleca?"

"I don't know," I huffed, throwing my head back. "I can't think about that right now."

"Well you're going to have to," Maya called from behind the couch. "I'm betting on having a victor this year, so one of you can't fail me."

I caught Finnick roll his eyes at her, and I found myself doing the same. Mags saw us and chuckled quietly, then continued with the serious tone.

"We've talked about what the other tributes have," She began, her eyes flickering between us both. "Now what are _your_ strengths? Eleca, can we start with you?"

I felt myself turn crimson red and vaguely remembered what Aleca had told me: _You don't need to kill. You just need to outlast everyone else_.

"I'm fast," I said. Mags remained indifferent. "I'm small, but I'm quick. And I can swim really well. I may not be able to throw spears like most fisherman can, but I can hide, and if they can't find me, they can't kill me."

"That's a good strategy, Eleca. But what if you're in a situation where you _have_ to kill? Or you starving or need water? Then what?"

I was silent. I hadn't actually thought about any of those circumstances at all. Mags caught my hesitation.

"That's alright, my dear," She said, leaning forward to pat my hand. "I'm here to help you learn those things. Now Finnick, what do you have going for you?"

Finnick stood up straighter in his chair and cleared his throat.

"I can fish," he started. "so I can stab. I'm good with spears, knives-ooh, I can weave nets...Oops, almost forgot, I can swim, obviously. Duh."

Mags smiled and shook her head at him. "Killing fish and killing humans are two very different things, dear."

"Not if I close my eyes." he was joking now, aiming to arouse a laugh from us, which he did. He looked ridiculously funny when he closed his eyes and blindly pretended to stab a fish with a fake spear.

When the mirth had died down and Finnick opened his eyes, Mag's leaned back in her chair and stared at him.

"You also have something of good fate going for you, Finnick."

"What?" he asked dumbly. How could he be so blind. Mags smiled.

"You're handsome," Mags said, gesturing to him. It made me feel small. "People like good looks. Sponsors eat it up. Even the game makers go soft on the sexy."

"I'm not sexy," Finnick snorted, but I knew he was loving the attention. Mags laughed.

"You will be once _they_ get finished with you."

Both Finnick and I were bewildered for a moment, but Mags was standing up and leaving before we could as what she had meant. Once she had gone, Maya hurriedly arose and began to fuss over us again.

"Dinner will be served at seven 'o clock sharp," she said, tapping her finger on the tip of Finnick's nose. _Disgusting, he's only fourteen!_ She went on with a curt smile. "I suggest you both wash up and get ready before then. Maybe you'll have time for a quick nap." She stared thoughtfully for a moment, then ushered us up. "Go on! Your rooms are to the left."

We both got up from the couch and wandered to our rooms. They were opposite from each other, mine labeled _9_ and his labeled _11__**. **_We stopped in front of our doors and bid each other goodbye for the time being.

"See ya," He said, nodding his head and opening his door.

"Bye," I murmured, but he was already in his room. Slowly, I turned the knob of room 9 and entered.

White. That was all I saw. White furniture, white walls, white decorations. Even the soft, fluffy carpet was white. There was a huge bed in the center of the room, followed by a chic dresser with an odd shaped lamp. There was a long mirror than ran down the wall, and another door which led to the bathroom. It was all grand and good, so when I finally was able to peel of the hideous clothes I had been reaped in, I was relieved. Immediately, I jumped into the shower, blasting it on hot, enjoying the feel of the scalding water on my suntanned skin. I washed my hair three times, just to be sure I got out all the salt water from 4 which usually made it stiff and knotty. I bathed in the lavender scented soap and mango-peach face wash, loving how for once, I smelled like some other than fish and the ocean. After I jumped out of the shower, I dried myself off with a soft, plush towel and wrapped myself in a rosy dressing gown. It was silky and smooth on my skin, a beautiful texture I had never had the luxury to experience.

As I ventured back into my room, I took no notice of my old clothes that lay limply on the ground, instead turning my attention to the wonderfully soft and elegant outfit that had been laid out for me. There was a light blue tank with two straps that wrapped around the back like a bow, and matching black yoga pants-simple and comfy, but at the same time extremely fashionable. Of course, it would be fashionable. It was the Capitol's designers, after all.

I slipped into the outfit and pulled my long, blonde hair in a ponytail. Suddenly, something on the floor beside my old clothes caught my eye. It was twinkling and glittering in the dim light of the room, so I couldn't help but lean down to investigate further. I found that it was a bracelet-_my_ bracelet, my charm bracelet from home. Memories of this morning came back to me in a rush, how I was late getting ready because I had been hanging out with Aleca by the rock pool, the way my mother had yelled at me when I got home and told me there was no time for a bath because the reaping was in an hour. So I hadn't bathed, only thrown on the first outfit my mother tossed at me. I left my hair down, long and scraggily and dry with sweat and seawater. I had been in such a hurry that I had forgotten to put on my bracelet, the one I wore everywhere, and had left it on my counter. After all, I had thought that I would be returning to home with family after the reaping, safe for another year. But I hadn't, so how had my bracelet ended up here. I fingered the little seashell charm and briefly remembered how after I had been reaped, my mother had hugged me ever so tightly. She must've slipped it into the pocket of skirt. But why? My heart sunk when I realized that every tribute was permitted a token from home. I hadn't brought anything with me, but my mother had thought ahead. _This_ was my token. My charm bracelet that I had worn since I was six, the very one I treasured and adored and never took off.

Like always, I fastened the bracelet on my righthand wrist, brushing away the tears that accumulated near by eyes. I picked up the little charm that my mother had given me, the one of the dolphin. I might never see her again. That may've been in, that short, broken moment back at 4. Now the tears fell, and I wondered if Finnick felt the same way. Would he miss his parents, the fisherman and the lovely woman who always said hello even when he snubbed us? What about his little sister, Tyla, or his older brother, Dawson? It was strange to think that I was surrounded by riches and lavender smelling clothes, not to mention the buffet of food _and_ Finnick Odair, yet all I wanted was to be back on my father's drab fishing boat laughing as Troy threw another mass of seaweed at me just to watch as I squealed. The laughter filled my mind, echoing like a ghost, clinging like some sort of martyr, wistfully drifting until the only sound audible was that off Maya calling Finnick and I for dinner.

In essence, I already felt dead.


	4. Mermaid

It wasn't long before we reached the Capitol. By the time Finnick and I had arisen for breakfast the next morning, we were pulling up into the beautiful glittering city, watching as skyscrapers and gleaming cars passed us. Maya smirked as Finnick and I gawked at the passing city, our eyes wide in curiosity and longing.

"Woah," Finnick breathed, pressing his nose against the window.

"Woah indeed," I whispered back, drinking in the way he gave a small smile. When we pulled into the gates where we would meet our prep team, Maya flicked her fingers at one of the Avox's serving us.

"Roll down the window," She insisted, smiling slightly at Finnick. "I think they're eager to see him."

And they were. Once the window was open, we saw what must've been hundreds of painted, pierced, and oddly dressed replicas of Maya's standing outside our train, eagerly craning their necks on glimpse at Finnick. Not me. Finnick. That was clear. Girls from the ages of thirteen to maybe a revolting fifty were screaming his name, blindly begging for his attention. He smiled back at them somewhat timidly.

"Wave," Mags said from behind him. He looked uncertain. She smiled assuringly.

"Do it. These will be your sponsors."

"_All_ of them?" He gaped. Mags laughed.

"Just wave."

He did, and the crowd went ballistic. It made something in my heart wither and boil, not in envy but in what felt like anxiety. _Those_ would be his sponsors, just because he was good looking! He was already a threat, a very, _very_ dangerous threat.

"What about me?" I asked, turning to Mags. "What do I do?"

"You can smile and wave if you like," She said indifferently. "They enjoy tributes no matter which one they may be."

So I smiled and waved, but the crowd barely noticed. They were too busy yelling at Finnick, and when we passed them, they began yelling at the next favorable tribute in the train behind us. Who could it be? Finnick seemed to wonder the same thing as me.

"Who's the train behind us?" He asked, slumping down and flicking his hair arrogantly. Prick.

Maya smiled, but didn't look up from the magazine she was reading.

"One," She answered instantly. Two names clouded my mind: _Theo and Relly_. The brutal bunch.

"They weren't good looking," I snorted, glaring at Finnick and Mags, who obviously had chose him in favor of me. Maya sighed and put down her magazine.

"No," She said. "But they're careers and they're ready to kill. Tributes from one always make the game interesting."

When the doors to the train slid open, Finnick and I were plucked from the cabin and pulled away from Maya and Mags before anyone could say anything. Even then, we were separated from each other. I nervously twisted the charms on my bracelet as three strange looking peace keepers ushered me into what looked like a shower room. In the room, there was a long, narrow table and many beauty supplies, along with three cocky looking stylists. One introduced herself as Oleander. She had dark skin and bright, neon green kinky hair. Little diamonds were embedded into her skin so she looked like a studded microphone, and I noticed that in her leopard print painted nails she held a few wax strips.

The next stylist sat me down on the table and instructed me to change into a plain white shift. His name was Darius, a thin man with a heavy Capitol accent. I watched his zebra print tattooed lips curl into a smile as he reached for the wax strips from Oleander.

The last stylist was giggly and quite annoying as she picked out my flaws. Her name was Maxine, and everything about her was pettish, from her bleached white skin to to her powdery pink hair.

Darius placed the warm wax strips along my legs, shaking his head at the sunburned patches of skin.

"District 4 tributes always have such horrifying skin," he murmured to Oleander. She nodded and padded a wax strip on my thigh.

"What's your name again?" She asked in a low, silky voice. "Elsie?"

"Eleca," I corrected dryly, glaring as Darius continued to insult my skin.

"Eleca," Oleander repeated, raising her eyebrows. "What a strange name."

I laughed bitterly. "Isn't oleander a type of poisonous plant?"

Maxine erupted into laughter as she combed out my hair.

"She got you, Ollie!"

"Shut up, you piece of cotton candy," Oleander growled just as she ripped off a piece of wax, sending me shrieking in pain. It was like a thousand tiny needles were jabbing at my leg. She seemed satisfied at my pain. Darius soon joined in with this cruel method of waxing my legs, pulling each strip of until tears rolled my down cheeks. Darius laughed quietly to himself.

"Is this hurts you that much," he said, shaking his head. "Then The Hunger Games will no doubt kill you."

"Yeah, sweetie," Maxine cooed in an equally shrill voice. "This is nothing compared to the Games."

"Awesome," I muttered sarcastically, biting back tears.

After they had waxed every inch of my now bare body, they washed my hair and brushed it out. Of course, Darius had something nasty to say about that as well.

"Look at the sun damage!" He cried, lifting up a few locks of my blonde hair. "The split ends!"

So they begun to snip away my hair as well, ridding of those dastardly 'split ends' and 'dry strands'. They then powdered my entire body like I was a doll getting ready for show. After they had manicured my nails and shaped my toes, they plastered my face in basic make-up, then exiting the room.

"Samara will see you now," Oleander said as the three exited the room. Only a few moments later, a simply dressed young man entered the room. He had light red hair and fair skin, with piercing blue eyes and a handsome face. His nose was pierced and there was a tattoo of an arrow of fire on the back of his neck. He couldn't be older than maybe twenty-two, but overall, he was a handsome man.

Samara studied me for a moment, then burst into a grin.

"I'm going to make you fabulous," he said, circling around me. I was surprised how happy he was.

"That's nice," I retorted, reaching for my bracelet, which was on the table next to me. He spied my hand and stopped me.

"Uh uh," he wagged his finger. "Not yet."

"But that's my token."

"Your token is for the Games, honey," He said, running his tongue over his lip. Somehow, it wasn't attractive at all. I crossed my arms.

"I want to wear it now."

He laughed. "You're defiant, that's for sure! Quite bold, may I add. I suppose we can't go a 'innocent, mermaid' look."

"I refuse to be a mermaid." My mind drifted back to the way Maya had looked dressed up on Reaping Day and my skin crawled. Samara chuckled again and sat down in a chair, easily reclining back.

"I don't want you to be _just _a mermaid," He replied, suddenly less childish and more creative. "Mermaids are for children. You are not a child. You are a lady, and you deserve to look like one. Like a _real_ mermaid." When I frowned at him, he smiled and went on. "I've spoken to your friend from 4, Finnick I think, I've spoken to his stylist, Adailya. We've both agreed that it will be better for the _both_ of you if you look...I don't know, sexy."

So Mags was right. The Capitol would turn Finnick from cute, arrogant fourteen-year-old boy to sexy, seductive, ruthless tribute. But now, they were taking me along with him.

"I'm not like him," I said, suddenly angry. "_They_ don't adore me like they do Finnick."

"But they will," Samara answered slyly. "They'll love the both of you, the pair of 4. That's the angle Adailya and I have decided to play up. Your looks."

"What looks?" I snorted.

"Don't be blind." Samara walked behind me and held a mirror up to my face. "With the right make-up, lighting, and attitude, you'll be ever sexier than Mr. Odair. But you have to cooperate."

"What does Mags think about this?" I snapped, still feeling unsure. Sexy wasn't my thing. That was Finnick's. I'd rather stick with Aleca's plan and stay sharp.

Samara hesitated. "She...she was reluctant at first, but Adailya and I believe it will get you sponsors."

"I'm not a doll to paraded around, _Samara_."

"Not yet," he said just as he plopped down in front of me and opened up a case full of make-up.

Samara insisted that I looked beautiful, but I just felt exposed. I certainly wasn't the 'innocent, mermaid' look he had wanted to avoid. He was successful in that way. But I was a mermaid, not one near the over-the-top costume Maya had paraded. I was a, what Samara described as, sexy mermaid, grown up mermaid.. He had dressed me in a tight outfit that reached my ankles. The dress was skin-fitting and had a lost slit that began just below my hip and ended at my ankles, giving a full view of my exposed leg. It was turquoise and studded with glittering light blue gems, making me shine. It also was low cut. In fact, I had never worn anything so low. It made me feel a little self conscious. A long, golden fan had been attached the back of my dress, which fanned out and made me look like a princess. Strands of shimmering 'seaweed' had been pinned randomly on the dress. My long blonde hair had been curled and powdered with blue shimmering dust. The same dust was used as eye-make up and body glitter. My lips had been painted with shimmering gold lip-gloss, and a long, sparkling trident was placed in my hand. I did feel pretty, but I felt utterly unlike me. Then I saw him.

They had tried to expose as much skin on Finnick as they could. He was shirtless, and naturally golden, so much that I was ashamed when I felt my heart pound twice as much against my chest. He was wearing blue shorts that cut off just at his knee. His skin shimmered with the same dust Samara had used on me, and his bronze hair was shiny and silken, his green eyes brightened by the gold eyeliner they used around his eyelids. He was also holding a trident, and I watched as they pinned the fake seaweed onto his shorts. My heart fell. This entire thing was just a reason to show off Finnick and his godly features, his muscled arms and hard abs. When he turned to look at me, he grinned almost shyly.

"You look nice," he said, nodding. I watched as they handed him a fishing net to hold in his other hand.

"So do you," I forced myself to reply, choking back the fact that he _did_ look a nice and it was all a show to help _him_ win over _me_.

We were assured out onto our chariot-Number 4-where we could already hear the cheers from the Capitol citizens that waited for the tribute's arrival in the parading arena. The tributes from 3-Katrina and Erik-stood in front of us. Neither looked back to even scope us out. I could hear the kids from 5 being guided onto their chariot-Anthea and Raymond- who chortled quietly from behind us. I glanced over my shoulder and stared them over. It was weird seeing them in person, from the brutally muscular Raymond to the catty looking Anthea, but they didn't seem to be sniggering at Finnick and I. No, they were laughing at the twelve-year-old kid from 9, whose district's job was hunting. He was practically naked save the deer skin that was wrapped around his hips. I noticed he was crying, and his fellow tribute-I wasn't sure of her name-cried along with him. They were scared, nervous, frightened. When Anthea saw that I was staring at them and then back at the boy, she grinned.

"What a loser, right?" She said, almost _friendly_. Of course. She expected Finnick and I to be tough and brawny like the rest of the Careers. Even though 5 wasn't a Career district, they usually brought out some pretty tough participants.

"Yeah," I mumbled back. Raymond was grinning at me.

"You're from 4, right?" he asked, winking. I felt disgusted.

"Yeah," I answered again. He looked me up and down and whistled.

"I can tell. Who's your partner?"

That's when Finnick turned around.

"Me," He said, and Raymond nodded. Anthea was too busy goggling at Finnick's body.

"I'm Raymond," he said to the both of us, nodding. Great. _Finnick and I had an _

_alliance already._

"Eleca," I answered before Finnick could even open his mouth. _Scratch that alliance thing with Finnick...this would be __**my**__ alliance. _

"I'm Anthea," Anthea said, still staring at Finnick's godly features. _Or maybe I'd have to share this alliance after all_. "You're Finnick, right?"

"Yup," he answered, so boyish and rather young. Anthea grinned at him.

"Sweet."

Just then, I heard an announcement that introduced the parade, and our chariot lurched forward. 1 must already be out there, because the audience was screaming like crazy now. I watched as the chariot in front of us followed 2, and then suddenly, Finnick and I were out in the stadium, our faces plastered on ever T.V screen available. I don't even think the announcers introduced Anthea and Raymond behind us. They were too busy commenting on Finnick _and_ me. So Samara had been right.

"Ladies and gentlemen, would you look at those _intoxicating_ outfits from District 4!" One voice boomed across the microphone. "The audience is going crazy for the sexy Finnick Odair and the be-a-_uuu_-tiful Eleca Brimsel! What do you think about this, Freid?"

The other announcer, Freid, spoke into the mic.

"Gorgeous outfits for gorgeous people," he drawled.

I glanced at Finnick and noticed he was waving at the audience, and was that a _wink_? They were suddenly screaming his name, and the intercom boomed his name, and the TV screens were zooming in on him. _Oh no, _I thought. _This isn't __**his**__ show_.

I stared straight out at the audience, the ones who adored Finnick, and grinned at them, then blew as many kisses as I could manage. They went nuts, and the attention was now on me. The cameras flitted to my phony smile and princess-like waves. I even went so far as to make a heart with my hand and point it to all of the audience, mouthing, _Love you_! Finnick saw and for a moment, his green flecked with jealousy. But then he wickedly smiled, and my blood boiled, for what he did next made the crowd absolutely writhe in love. It wasn't anything too extravagant, he only looked at me, leaned down to whisper, "Two can play at that game, Elle." Then he wrapped his arm around me, stared deftly into my eyes, took my hand and held it out to the audience as if we were..._what_? I started to pull away from him as thoughts blindly passed through my mind. What would Aleca think if he saw Finnick embrace me like this? Or Troy? For that matter, what would any of my friends think? But I couldn't pull away; the crowd worshipped us, and as the announcers finished up the parade with a few more words of awe for Finnick and I, I realized that in his selfish act to outdo me, Finnick had helped me. It made me mad and grateful at the same time that it took Finnick Odair and a sleezy outfit to gain sponsors.

Samara and Adailya helped Finnick and I off the chariots, and already, the beefy pair from 1 and sly couple from 2 are eyeing us. It's not that their envious, nor are they impressed, but they seem amused, like Finnick and I were somewhat entertaining to them. The lower districts stare in utter exasperation, even Raymond and Anthea, for after Finnick and I entered, the attention was drawn completely to us. I'm not sure if the audience even _saw_ the other districts. President Snow makes a quick, welcoming speech, and the camera finally flits off us. I'm glad when the ceremony finishes.

The curt pair from 2 timidly approached us-Olsen and Delanee, I think were their names. They were dressed in steel armor, probably representing the manufacturing industry their district dealt with-weaponry and other arsenal goods. Delanee's black hair was slicked back with hair gel, as was her partner, Olsen's. They smirked at us but nodded nevertheless.

"Nice show you put on, 4," Olsen said to both of us. His dark blue eyes were mocking.

"Thanks." Finnick shrugged, acting arrogant as usual.

"_You_ certainly pleased them," Delanee noted, smiling eerily at Finnick. "How old are you again? Like, twelve?"

Olsen chuckled. So they weren't here to make friends. They were teasing us, thought our get-up was stupid.

Finnick's face burned with blush.

"I'm fourteen," he corrected quite angrily, clenching his fists. Olsen laughed.

"Wow, fourteen!" He exclaimed, overly sarcastic. "What a grown up boy!"

For some stupid reason, it made me vexed that they were picking on Finnick. After all, he had just unconsciously gained me a few sponsors with his little 'hug' on the chariot.

"And what are you, maybe fifteen?" I said to Olsen, glaring. He returned my angry glint.

"Eighteen, actually." His blue eyes darted to Delanee. "And she's seventeen. You two are babies."

"That's sad," I said, purposely pouting my lip at him.

Olsen frowned. "What?"

"It's sad that you're four years older than Finnick and he has ten times the muscle and strength than you do."

Olsen's face reddened because he knew it was true. It was _obvious_. He was slight and lanky for a Career, no taller than me. Compared to Theo or Raymond or even Chave from 10, he was puny. The other careers had probably already begun to give him flack about it, so I wasn't surprised when he jabbed one finger in my face and grunted.

"You better watch out for yourself, 4," He growled. Delanee stared with the same angry ferocity.

"Yeah," She agreed, snubbing her nose up at Finnick. "Because in the arena, looks don't matter."

And then they both trotted off, their small hips swinging at just the same pace. A couple of the other tributes watched as our argument died down. Theo and Relly from 1 stared in admiration at Finnick and I, but were soon rushed away by their mentor. Mags greeted us shortly after 1 was escorted away. She led us down a hallway to a couple of elevators where a few of the other tributes are already waiting. Theo and Relly must've left to their rooms, because the only tributes that waited awkwardly beside us were Alliyah and Dayzin from 12, and Chave and Farrah from 10. Mags wouldn't say a word in front of the other tributes, so Finnick and I stayed silent. The kids from 12 were gaping at us, and Chave looked pretty pissed off. Farrah remained indifferent, awkwardly flipping her auburn hair when Finnick glanced at her. Chave saw and smirked.

"Already got a fangirl," he chortled at Finnick, obviously being sarcastic. Finnick opened his mouth to snap a reply back, but Mags gave him a look that red _don't_, so he shut up. Finally an elevator came, and as Mags led Finnick and I through, Chave peeked in and sniggered, "Kidding!", just as the doors closed. When we were finally cut off from them, Finnick angrily punched the air.

"What is _wrong_ with these people?" He yelled. Finnick was popular back home; he'd never experienced any kind of real bullying.

Mags shook her head at him. "They're competitive, and they see you as a threat. They're trying to degrade you."

"Yeah," I agreed, watching as the fourteen-year-old boy leaned up against the elevator wall, infuriated. "Look at how that Olsen kid treated us. It's not because he doesn't, well, _like_ us, it's because he feels like we have more of a chance at killing him and Delanee than he does to us."

"But don't they want to accept _us_ if we're threats?" Finnick asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"Maybe," Mags replied. "Maybe not. It depends on the tribute. Those two from 1 may like you well enough. Who knows, perhaps this year it'll be 1 and 4 forming and alliance against 2 and 10."

"2 won't pair with 10," I said colorlessly, closing my eyes. I wanted this make-up off. "I feel like they're gonna be loners."

"They sure acted like loners," Finnick muttered from behind me. "They're not brawny like most Careers, anyway."

"Muscle isn't everything, Finnick," Mags reminded him gently. "Sometimes it's the smallest tributes that pose as the worst threats." With a quick nod, she glanced at me. I frowned. _I_ certainly was no threat.

The elevator reached the fourth floor and we stumbled out, Finnick cursing the entire time.

"It's not fair that 12 gets the penthouse," he complained, suddenly acting his age. _My god_, he could be annoying!

Mags shook her head as we entered our room. "12 could say that it's not fair that they never win and we do."

I disregarded all conversation as I stepped into the room. And I thought the train had been grand! Everything looked modern and bubbly and bright, from the long dining table to the circular shaped T.V that was mounted on the wall. Several avox's were stationed around, merely waiting to bring us service. There were a few doors that led to the bedrooms and various bathrooms, all of which, assured by Maya, would be in the finest condition. I was grinning for the first time in a while when I recognized that Samara, my prep team, Adailya, and Finnick's prep team. _Great_. I didn't know that they had been invited to this fantastic party too.

"Welcome!" Adailya cheered as her blue-tinted skin shimmered in the light.

Unsurprisingly, Maya emerged from the kitchen wearing a frothy pink suit.

"You two were _amazing_!" She jumped up and down excitedly. Finnick and I were already bored.

"I told you it would work, Mags," Samara said through a mouthful of chocolate.

Mags nodded helplessly. "Oh it worked, but it earned them some foes in the process."

Adailya snorted. "Like who? Those badly dressed kids from 7? They looked awful."

"No," Mags said gently. "The sly couple from 2."

"The goths?" Maxine asked, twisting her hair around her finger. Finnick laughed at her.

"She's right!" He said, nudging me in the side. "They are goths."

Pleased at making _somebody_ laugh, Maxine grinned and went on. "I mean, what were they supposed to be, blocks of steel?"

"Enough, Maxine," Darius said quietly, hushing her. He then turned his attention to Mags. "What did they say, the pair from 2?"

"They teased us," Finnick answered, crossing his arms over his chest. Both Oleander and Maxine watched him with glowing eyes, small smiles upon their plastic faces. _He's fourteen for the love of god!_

"What'd they say, dear?" Maya asked, gasping.

"They told me I looked twelve," Finnick replied, suddenly sheepish. "They implied the crowd only liked us because of our looks. But Elle handled them-boy, you should've seen the look on Olsen's face when she called him weak!"

Jaws dropped from around the room. Samara looked astounded.

"You...did..._what_?" He gawked. I blushed.

"I didn't say much," I insisted, scared I had crossed a boundary into the danger zone. "I just said that Finnick was younger _and_ stronger than him. That's it."

"He went _crazy_!" Finnick exclaimed, grinning at me. "It was awesome!"

"I can't believe you did that," Samara breathed, brushing his hand through his rogue hair. "I honestly cannot believe you called a Career weak. Do you know that you've put a massive target on not only your head, but Finnick's too-"

"Actually," Mags started, placing two frail but warm arms around Finnick and I. "I think she did them good."

"She made the First To Kill List, that's for sure," Darius murmured under his breath.

Mags sighed. "No, no. See, the other tributes witnessed the entire thing, and that includes the pair from 1."

"Great," Maya huffed. "Just _brilliant_. Go and get all the Careers on your back! What an excellent idea!"

"The Careers from 1 liked it, Maya," Mags said flatly, surprising both Finnick and I.

"What?" I said dumbly, pulling away.

Mags nodded. "They liked that you challenged Olsen and Delanee. Besides, I don't think they like them very much anyway. They seem to be tight with the two from 3."

"So you're saying you think our two have a possible chance at getting in an alliance with the Careers from 1 and 3?" Maya asked, flicking her manicured nails through her hair.

"Yes," Mags replied, smiling slightly. "I do."

"The pair from 5 like us too," I added, watching as Finnick nodded alongside me. "We talked to them before the parade began."

"There you have it," Mags announced, grinning. "They're doing fine. If they can get an alliance with the pairs from 1, 3 and 5, I think they're doing pretty well."

"1 and 2 never split up," Darius said dryly.

"Olsen and Delanee are loners," Finnick replied back, arousing a laugh out of the group. He seemed confused. "What did I say?" He asked, more confused when we laughed more. "What? They _are_ loners."

"And gothic," Maxine added again, forcing Finnick to smile. After a moment, Mags ushered us away.

"Alright my little fishies, I think it's time we got some rest."

"I'm not tired," Finnick whined. "I'm not-" He cut himself off with a yawn. I giggled at him.

"Who's a sleepy boy?" I cooed, laughing when he flipped me off.

An alliance with Finnick, 1, 3, and 5. That sounded pretty good to me.


	5. An Alliance Forms

"THE RULES ARE SIMPLE," Bristel explained, the head operator at the training center. Training started at 10:00 AM, but Mags insisted we get there at 9:30. I had been expecting the center to be empty, but as I learned, many of the tributes had arrived even earlier than us. I heard somewhere that the pair from 1 got there at 8:00, fresh and ready to start training...not that they needed it. For Careers, the training center was a time to intimidate the rest of us. Bristel's sharp voice brought me back to reality.

"First, there is to be absolutely _no_ fighting before the Games, is that understood?"

Theo from 1 grunted impatiently, earning himself a glare from Bristel.

"Don't worry," She assured him with a sarcastic smile. "You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena. This is a time to brush up on your skills and maybe even learn a few new skills. Many of you will bombard the weapon stations and ignore acknowledging the survival skills. Listen to me when I tell you that many of you will be killed from infection, poisonous plants, dehydration, or even disease. If you want a chance at surviving the Games, I recommend heading over to the rope tying and plant identifying stations first, then making your way around from survival to weaponry. Got it?"

Everyone seemed bored with her, even the twelve-year-old from 9. Finally, Bristel turned us loose, and what had been a quiet scene quickly evolved into mayhem. A few of the tributes had begun to pair up, and I was pleasantly surprised when Anthea and Raymond both approached me.

"Hey little dolphin," Raymond teased, crossing his arms over his burly chest. I was suddenly glad that I hadn't made an enemy with him.

I smiled back. "Hey."

"Nice outfit," Anthea laughed, pinching my shoulder playfully. I'm pretty sure it still left a bruise.

"Thanks," I murmured, rolling my eyes and finishing with a small grin. "Stupid stylist insisted Finnick and I look_ sexy_."

"It worked," Raymond murmured as he eyed me. Anthea hit him over the head.

"Shut up, douche." She turned to me. "Speaking of shark boy himself, where is Finnick?"

I glanced next to me where Finnick had stood just minutes ago. Where was he? Had he already abandoned me? Panic rose up in my chest. What if he got into a brawl with Olsen from 2? Would he be punished? Finnick was irrational and still rather pissed about last night. My worries faded when Raymond pointed over to the spear-throwing station.

"He's practicing with the spears." he nodded approvingly.

I stared over as relief washed through me, but I was only at ease for a second. When I saw how the spear Finnick threw launched through the air and hit the target-dummy right in the middle of its forehead, my heart raced. He _was_ good with a spear, but I...I couldn't do anything. That was one more thing going for him, one more thing piling up to my death.

"Damn!" Raymond exclaimed, raising his eyebrows. "That boy knows how to toss a spear!"

"Typical fisherman," Anthea added, watched as Finnick threw yet another a spear, the blue shirt he was wearing tightening on his abs. She glanced at me. "Can you do that?"

I felt embarrassed. I _couldn't_ do that. There was absolutely nothing I could do, nothing to help my newly formed alliance. When I didn't answer, Anthea dismissed the question and glanced through the stations.

"So which one should we hit first?"

_We?_ They didn't care that I hadn't answered, that I had blushed and stared quietly down at the ground instead. Anthea and Raymond wanted to train with me, and from the way Anthea kept gawking over at Finnick, I assumed he would be in on the alliance too. I only wished he join us instead of training on his own.

Before lunchtime, I learned that Raymond was wicked with knives and ten times less friendly when he was in action. It was strange how he could go from being easy-going flirt to deadly, lethal killer. Anthea, on the other hand, went no where near any of the weapons, instead taking her place among the punching bags. There, I saw that she was skilled not only in boxing, but in a little martial arts. She was swift and quick, and when she finally practiced on a dummy, she managed to hit it in every fatal place. After she was finished and lunchtime was called, we caught up with Raymond again and walked towards the break tables.

"Where's Shark Boy?" Raymond asked as we sat down. I couldn't look at him the same after seeing how deadly he truly was.

I shrugged. "Dunno. Probably flirting with someone."

Anthea laughed and shook her head. "He's over there," she said, pointing. "And he looks a bit lost."

Finnick did indeed look lost. He was carrying his lunch tray and peering around, probably searching for me. When I caught his eye, I waved him over, pleased when he immediately came. He seemed excited as he plopped down next to me.

"That was fun!" He grinned, acting like a typical fourteen-year-old boy. Raymond chuckled at him.

"You got a mean throw," He praised, biting into a sandwich.

Finnick took a gulp of water and shrugged. "Thanks," he said, wiping his mouth. "Your pretty good with knives."

"I try," Raymond murmured. "But Anthea's way better than me. Not with knives, but with kicking and punching-"

"It's called _boxing_," Anthea corrected smartly, winking at Finnick. I couldn't help but giggle.

It seemed to sink into Finnick that these were the same kids we had talked to on the chariots yesterday and he realized that I had spent the entire day with them. Dropping the cookie he was about to eat, he stared suspiciously from me to the pair.

"Did you guys spend the whole morning training together?" he asked, frowning.

I nodded, smiling that he felt nervous for once. "Yeah. All morning."

"We're best buddies," Anthea said seriously but smiling at me, joining in on the joke.

Raymond caught on and added on to the story.

"We have a strategy and everything," he lied, waving his hands in a big circle. Finnick suddenly looked deeply saddened. When Anthea saw the way his eyes widened in betrayal, she _awwed_ and took his hand.

"We're kidding," she said, then stopping herself. "Well, not about everything. I mean, we assumed you'd be in the alliance with us...this is an alliance, right?"

I felt proud when Finnick glanced at me and we both nodded. "Right."

"Good." Anthea took a bite of salad and relaxed. From behind her, I glimpsed at the pair from 1 laughing with the girl from 3-Katrina, I think. Her fellow tribute, the scrawny kid

named Erik, dolefully sat alone as he watched her make friends with the two most powerful Careers. Poor kid. Thrown to the dogs while Katrina basked in power.

"What do you think about the Careers from 1?" I asked suddenly.

Raymond almost spat out the diet soda he had just chugged.

"Theo and Relly?" He asked, pushing back his matted brown hair.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"If you're thinking of them as an alliance, well, you're screwed." Anthea told me, dipping a fry into some ketchup. I noticed she had taken it from Finnick's plate. "They always pair up with the Careers from 2."

"But we're a Career district," Finnick countered just as Anthea stole another fry. He didn't seem to mind. "District 4, that is."

"Yup, laddy boy, you are," Anthea laughed, reaching over and taking a few more fries. "And if you were eighteen and she was eighteen, I'm sure 1 would be all over you. But you're young, and don't get me wrong, you've got a sick talent with spears, but you're just not old enough to fit their _qualifications_."

"That's not fair," Finnick complained, pushing his plate of fries over to Anthea.

She nodded at him in thanks.

"It's the Hunger Games," She replied. "Nothing's fair. 1 will pair up with 2 just like they always do. That's just how it goes."

"I don't think 1 will team with 2 this year," I said slowly, watching as Theo blatantly glared at Olsen when he walked by. "I don't think they like each other."

"Course they like each other," Anthea snorted. "They always like each other. BFFS. Minus the forever part, because, well, you know..."

"No they don't." I was sure of it now, because Olsen and Delanee walked right past 1, barely even acknowledging their existence. Instead, they took a seat with Chave and did some weird handshake I had never seen before.

So that was it. 1 and 3. 2 and 10. 4 and 5. What an odd combination.

"Olsen and Delanee are pairing up with Chave," I answered dryly, gesturing over to the deadly trio. My alliance glanced over at them.

"Would you look at that," Raymond murmured, peering at the three.

"Yeah," Finnick agreed, pointing his fork at 1 and 3. "Theo and Relly have made friends with that girl from 3, I think."

"Katrina," Anthea answered flatly, rolling her eyes. "Course they have. Evidently, she has mad skill with wiring and electronics, you know, being from 3 and all. Real good and configuring crap too."

"What, like bombs?" Finnick asked, staring almost scared at Katrina.

"I don't know, maybe." Anthea shrugged and stuffed a mouthful of fries in her mouth. "Figures they'd go for her."

"Why?" I asked, staring over as Katrina and Relly giggled at something Theo said.

"Because they need someone smart and quick-witted," Raymond replied, answering for Anthea. "Same reason Olsen and Delanee went for what's-his-face...Chave. They're both sly and swift, but they're useless with weapons, which is strange for Careers. They didn't touch one weapon today, just stayed towards the climbing and survival section. But Chave-he was one _everything_ today. The guy's practically a walking tank, complete with machine guns and everything. That's why they went for him-he's the brawn of the pack. But with Theo and Relly, they needed someone to be the brains. Hence, they chose Katrina."

I thought about it for a moment. It made sense that 1 would want someone who could strategize and perhaps enhance their already deadly weapons, but I hadn't expected Olsen and Delanee to even _care_ about having someone with muscle. Obviously they did, and it happened to be the same guy that disliked Finnick and I. Great. The District-4 haters had formed an alliance. What a bright idea.

"Chave's pretty awesome on everything," Finnick said, glaring at 10. "But his strongpoint is the mace."

"Ouch." Anthea drew back. "That'd hurt like hell." She turned to us and sarcastically went on. "Promise me if Chave gets even close to killing me, you'll just slit my throat and be done with it. I'd rather not be bludgeoned."

"Me too," I agreed. The boys laughed.

"What's Delanee's specialty?" Anthea said, cutting through their laughter. They were quiet once again.

"She's like a spider," Raymond answered, nodding towards what Anthea called 'The Jungle Gym'. "She can climb any of those without even sweating. She flips around as well, like somersaults and crap like that. It'd be hard to catch her, therefore hard to kill her."

_Aleca's theory put into use. Not deadly with brawn, but deadly in stealth.  
_

"And Olsen?" I asked curiously. Finnick took this one.

"Same sort of thing. He's quick and good with ropes and snares."

"But he's from 2!"

"I know," Finnick huffed. "And he can also cartwheel, which is random but relevant."

"He can't cartwheel us to death," I said quietly, surprised when they erupted into mirth. A smile crept on my face, and for the first time since the reaping, I felt at ease. I had an alliance, a _good_ alliance, but with a second glance at Theo and Relly, I knew I wanted to expand my little group and add three more.


	6. Who Would You Kill First

**My sincerest apologies, for in the 1st chapter, I mistakenly called the games the 64th Annual Hunger Games when it is indeed the 65th. Thank you for your support and please review! 3**

"I SEE YOU MADE SOME FRIENDS," Mags said smugly as we collapsed in our hotel room. Unlike me, Finnick was exhausted. He had spent the rest of the day throwing spears with Raymond, laughing and having what seemed to be a genuinely good time. I wandered aimlessly around as Anthea boxed from dummy to dummy. I spent a few moments at the 'weaving' station (back in 4, it was simple net skills combined with basic rope tying) and excelled quickly, then moving onto poisonous plants and fruits. The Jungle Gym was right across from the plants and fruit station, so I was able to get the just of Delanee's abilities. Raymond and Finnick had been right; she tumbled all over the place, weaving a web with rope like a spider. She was lethal-_more_ than lethal, actually. My theory that Delanee wasn't talented with weapons was wrong, for as she climbed all through the ropes and bars, I glimpsed at something glinting in her mouth and recognized it was a knife. She was a spider, spinning a web to trap her victims and stabbing them with her fangs, in this case, a machete.

Olsen was less stealthy. He could climb as well, but worked better on ground, much like Anthea. He flipped around and punched a few times, often working near Anthea on the boxing dummies. I could she was getting aggravated when he cut in front of her a few times and she stormed away to join Raymond and Finnick at the knives. Chave, however, was simply brutal. Nothing else could describe the way he swung around his mace.

I sunk into the comfy sofa as Maya brought me over an herbal tea, something I wasn't fond of, but accepted on account of being polite. Finnick was already getting into the sweets Samara and Adailya has sat out.

"We made allies," Finnick finally replied to Mags smartly. "They're not friends."

"Yes they are," I retorted back, offended that after an entire training day with Anthea and Raymond, they were only _allies_.

"You can't have friends in this game," Finnick answered in the suave tone I hadn't heard for a while. "In the end, we'll end up having to kill each other anyway, so what's the point of getting close?"

"To have company." I shrugged back. "People to sit and laugh with so you're not constantly thinking about your upcoming death. Besides, I like Anthea and Raymond."

"Anthea and Raymond?" Maya gasped from behind us. "The pair from 5, correct?"

"Yup." Finnick nodded and leaned back in the chair. "They _should_ be Careers. They're both awesome with weapons, and Anthea boxes."

I smiled and leaned near Mags. "I think he likes her," I whispered, giggling. Mags only grinned. Maya was more interested in finding out about our new friends.

"And what about the _real_ Careers?"

Finnick hesitated. "Well...they're...I dunno. Theo from 1 told me I was pretty good with spears, but that's about it. I don't know if Relly talked to Elle or not."

"She didn't," I sighed. "I was over by the surviving section spying on 2, anyway. Relly hangs out near the blades."

"You spied on 2?" Maya suddenly perked up. "What did they do? Were they interesting? Threatening? Lame?"

"Threatening," I said carefully, watching as Maya's face fell. "Definitely threatening."

"How so?" Mags was leaning forward, her brows furrowed with anticipation.

I took a breath and went on.

"Olsen's sly and deadly. He boxes like Anthea. Chave, obviously, is deadly all around."

"Pretty good with the mace," Finnick added wearily.

I nodded. "But Delanee...she's the one _I'm_ worried about. She can flip through ropes and bars and obstacles without making a sound. And she does this thing with rope...she tied it around the Jungle Gym to create a sort of trap. She carried a knife in her mouth and once her 'pretend' victim was secured in the trap, she lunged and began to stab."

They were all silent for a while, all staring mindlessly at the blank T.V screen. Finally Finnick slumped back in the chair and reached for the remote, flipping the screen on. Some show was on where a plastic-looking lady with neon orange hair was spewing crummy jokes into the camera. A man with green-tinted skin smiled next to her, spontaneously embracing her for a kiss. The show went from comedy to dirty romance, and even though none of us were watching (except Maxine who squealed it was her favorite show and the season finale), Mags switched the channel due to the content.

"There isn't time for television," She said quietly. Both Finnick and I glanced down. "Procrastinating on talking about your strategies and enemies won't be beneficial to you two."

"I know," I muttered softly. Maxine was still whining in the distance.

"Why did you turn it off?" She cried, dipping her hand into a big bowl of pink popcorn.

"That's episode where we find out if Damila actually loves Foravora!"

"For God's sake, Maxine, these children will be fighting for their lives in two days!" Mags yelled, raising her voice for the first time ever. Finnick actually jumped, and I was a little shocked my own self. But Maxine shut-up, and Mags turned back to us, now frustrated.

"So you know Delanee and Olsen's strengths," She continued. "But what about their weaknesses?"

"We thought they weren't good with weapons," I said, sighing. "But then they teamed up with Chave, and I saw that Delanee _is_ good with knives."

"So?" Mags was undoubtedly persistent.

"We don't know," Finnick finally said, slouching back and closing his green eyes.

Everyone was silent; yes, we had made an alliance, a good one at that. But Delanee, Olsen, and Chave, our biggest threats at the moment, already disliked us so much, I knew we would make their first-to-kill-list. Our only hope was to team up with 1 and Katrina, but even now, that seemed dim.

I watched as Raymond threw yet another knife straight between his target's forehead. He had a strong posture, his arms flexed and his legs steady, and as he swung his hand back and slammed the knife into the dummy's heart, I tried to imagine him in action during the games. When the dummy wouldn't be a dummy at all, and the knives he would be using would become lethal, when the target became human.

"Wanna try archery?" Anthea asked me, reviving me from my daydream. The sound of Raymond's knives hitting the dummy were still echoing through my head. Slowly, I nodded at Anthea, already knowing I would fail, but willing to try it so I wouldn't seem useless.

The line for archery was surprisingly long, filled mostly with people that couldn't get a spot at the knives or other favored weapons. Anthea and I watched as the girl from 11, the one about my age, Liza, stepped up and picked up the bow. She weighed it in her hands for a moment, took an arrow, pulled it back, and _bam_-hit her target dead on. Our jaws dropped and even Bristel looked surprised. Nobody expected that from this seemingly weak girl, _nobody_. But now, all eyes were on her, and from across the room, I noticed a pair of blue eyes scoping her out.

Olsen. So he wanted to add 11 to his alliance now as well. How lovely.

After seeing Liza's brilliant hit, Anthea and I both slipped out of line in mild embarrassment-there was no way we could out do that. We wandered over to Finnick, who was at the rope station, weaving nets and tying intricate knots. Anthea nodded in admiration.

"You're good," She said picking at the corner of the net he was weaving. He barely noticed. "Why aren't you at the spears? Isn't that your specialty, Sharkie?"

"Line was too long," He murmured dismissively, not even meeting our gaze. "And Theo was hogging it. I wasn't about to mess with District 1. Why were you at the archery station?"

Anthea smirked. "Same reason, really. Olsen doesn't like to share with the boxing dummies, and quite frankly, either do I. Eleca didn't really have a preference, so we just went to archery, but left after we saw Liza's wicked aim. Did you know she was an archer?"

"No," Finnick said as he finished his net. He finally looked up at us, green eyes wide and anxious. "Didn't know she could do anything."

"Yeah, well, looks like her skills got her noticed," I added, nudging my thumb over at Olsen and Delanee. They were talking quietly to Liza, and unlike Theo and Relly had been with Katrina, they weren't laughing. They didn't even suppress a smile, only stared seriously at the girl before them. I wasn't surprised when Liza's partner, Jaque, soon joined them, as did Chave.

"What the hell," Anthea breathed. "Now they're teaming up with _11_? What kind of screwed up Games is this? 11 always goes in the bloodbath."

"So does 10." Finnick shrugged, untying a rope only to begin another knot. "But he's chilling with 2."

"What's their strategy?" Anthea mused, leaning down on the table and cracking her knuckles. "Take the weak ones under their wing?"

"Obviously not," I muttered, watching as Liza demonstrated her skills once again, this time purely to impress 2. Must be some sort of initiation. "She's pretty strong."

"Maybe." Anthea eyed the empty boxing station, then smiled and patted me gently on the elbow. "I'm gonna practice while Olsen's busy with new recruits. Catch ya at lunch."

Finnick and I were silent as Anthea wandered back into the dummy stocked portion of the center and delivered deadly punches to five at a time.

"You tried any weapons yet?" Finnick was looking at me, somewhat somberly. _He's scared_. I managed to smile and shake my head.

"Nah, I'm not...good at anything."

"Then come help me."

So I did, because he offered and there was nothing else I could. Besides, I really hated the way Olsen kept glaring at him. It made me feel...protective.

Finnick avoided my eyes as we worked on a very complicated net. I tied ropes and wove until my fingers were sore, the skin chaffed off. Sighing, I stared at ahead as my hands mindlessly worked, watching the tributes failing and laughing and winning all at the same time. Liza and Jaque must've been accepted into the alliance, for now Jaque stood between Olsen and Chave, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring aimlessly at Theo from 1. It was comical to see the fourteen-year-old between the broad-chested Chave and tall, sly Olsen. Finnick must've seen me smile at the sight, for he looked over and raised his eyebrows.

"So I guess 11 was accepted."

I nodded, staring at Delanee and Liza from across the room. "Guess so."

"Scared of them?" His eyes met mine, wide and green and suddenly watery. _Oh no_, I thought. _Not here, Finnick. Just save it for the room. Just hang in there_.

"No," I said clearly, but voice caught. "I mean...yes, they are scary, and yes, they are strong, but we're...we're stronger, Finn." I realized I had called him by a nickname, whether or not it was his usual nickname, I was unsure. But then he winced back, like I rehashed a memory for him, and I knew it was the nickname he had refused to tell me about. Why? Evidently it was specifically and only for his girlfriend's use. Shit.

"Crap, I'm sorry," I said quickly, dropping the rope in my hands. "I know you said only your girlfriend called you by your nickname. Hell, I didn't even know your nickname, it just kind of sounded natural-"

"I don't have a girlfriend," he said suddenly.

I was confused. "But...but you said-"

"I lied." Quietly, he met my eyes. "I wanted to sound cool in front of you and Maya."

"_Why_?" It seemed absurd that Finnick Odair would want to be cool for _me_.

He blushed and tied a knot with rope, pulling so tightly that the whole thing came undone. He didn't seem to care. "I don't know. I guess it's cuz I thought that if I went into this acting relaxed about the whole thing, I'd really _feel_ relaxed about the whole thing. And I did, even at the parade I was cool about it. Even when we met Olsen and Chave. But then something snapped, and now...now I'm scared."

My heart melted for him, just a little. He wasn't anything like the Finnick Odair back school, cocky and mean, so they said. Despite the muscle on his tanned body, he looked smaller now, childish, even. He was frightened, truly afraid, for his life. And I felt the same. It hit me now, that only one of us came out. That if I survived this, I could never see Anthea again or laugh with Raymond, worst of all, I'd lose Finnick, somebody I thought I could never be close to. It was cruel what the Capitol was doing, forcing us to make friends with people we would either have watch die or kill ourselves. I thought again about Raymond launching his knives, then Anthea delivering a deadly blow, and Finnick, with his spears and soon-to-be numerous sponsors. If anybody died in our alliance, it wouldn't be them. It'd be me.

"Eleca?" Finnick looked lost for words. "Are you okay?"

I knew I wasn't, I knew there were tears in my eyes. Hastily, I managed to wipe them away, but then I met Finnick's eyes and thought about him dead, lying lifelessly on the ground of a dirty arena, only at fourteen, and my heart splintered with hatred for the Games.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. Sorry it was us that had been reaped. Sorry that he was so young. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Sorry?" He seemed confused. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I do," I mumbled. "Olsen and Delanee are stronger than I anticipated, and their alliance is growing. Sure, _we're_ from a Career District, but a better one? Not particularly. Yeah, Anthea and Raymond are strong, but compared to the brutal force of the _real_ Careers? They're nothing. We don't stand a chance."

"Elle, don't say that. We _do_-"

"Unless," I cut him off mid-sentence. "we team up with 1 and Katrina."

"You already know they're not interested, Elle. If they wanted us, they'd come get us. Just like Delanee and Olsen did with Liza."

"But we have to. Don't you see?" He seemed oblivious, so I went on in a frenzied hurry. "Think about it. It's gonna be either 1 or 2 who take home at the Cornucopia, and most likely, there'll be water nearby. That solves the problem of shelter and a water source, not to mention all the weapons they usually gain during the bloodbath. Now listen, right now, we have literally _no_ chance at getting a spot at that Cornucopia, but if we join with 1, we're more likely to get in. Since 1 and 2 are split this year, it'll be 50/50, but still, isn't 50 better that 0?"

"Yeah," he said slowly. Still didn't understand. _Boys_.

"We're just kids, Finnick," I told him. "We need help, and Anthea and Raymond aren't enough. We need _them_."

We both stared over at the Career trio, watching as Relly lolled her head back at a joke Katrina told. Carefree, prepared, ready. They weren't even scared. Why should they be? They were on top, but at the rate 2 was expanding, they'd soon be on bottom. But if they added _our_ alliance, they'd be greater than 2 and more strong. With Anthea and Raymond's strength, Finnick's looks and sponsors, and my...well...knowledge, they'd be crazy to pass us up. I was determined to raise our chances, give Finnick some hope that he could go home. That _I_ could go home.

Finnick gasped as I started over towards Relly, who was polishing a knife. Katrina and Theo had dispersed to the mace and club section.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Talking to Relly."

"You're crazy!"

"Shh," I pushed Finnick away and came up beside Relly. She didn't look up, nor did she acknowledge that I was even there. She only stared down at the glimmering knife with bright, brown eyes. I drew a deep breath and kneeled down beside her.

"Relly, right?"

She glanced up and frowned as a look of surprise flashed through her face.

"Uh, yeah," she replied uncertainly, taking me in. She was a good head taller than I was, even crouching down, with dark red curls and a splatter of freckles. "You're that kid from 4, yeah?"

"That's me." I flashed her a confident grin. "Eleca is what I usually go by. Elle for short."

"Uh huh." Relly was completely uninterested, instead absorbed with the grip on the knife's handle. I cleared my throat and swallowed my fear. I needed this alliance. _We_ needed this alliance.

"You're good with knives," I said, knowing immediately it made me sound like an amateur. Of _course_ she was good with knives, dumbutt! Almost all of the Careers were good with knives, even Finnick!

She chuckled at me and nodded. "Yep." She stood up and launched the knife into the air, expressionless as it landed right on the dummy's heart. I gulped.

"Nice aim," I commented, pretending to actually know something about knife-throwing.

Relly nodded, but still looked annoyed, like I was a bother. After a few moments of silence and some dead-on knife chucks, she finally spoke.

"So you're from the same district as Pretty Boy, right?"

I frowned. "Pretty Boy?"

"Yeah." Her eyes glinted playfully. "Blondie, over there. The one at Ropes with the dude from 5."

I glanced over at Finnick, who was talking to Raymond. They kept looking over at me, almost pleading, as if I was an embarrassment. I ignored them.

"Oh yeah, that's Finnick."

"Finnick?" She said his name with mild indifference, then smiled. "Nah. I like Pretty Boy better. It suits him."

"He's good with spears," I said abruptly, catching Relly's eye. She only smiled, so

I continued in a shaky tone. "He can weave nets, too. And he's a great swimmer."

"Being from 4, that doesn't surprise me," Relly answered, ignoring the kid that was complaining about not getting a turn with knives. She threw another and went on.

"But he's a baby, you know what I'm saying? Just a kid."

"He's strong."

"Yeah." Her brown eyes were shining, and I couldn't tell whether it was pride or amusement. "But Theo and I can't afford to lug a fourteen-year-old around. I don't babysit. And you're not much older yourself, Elaca."

"It's El_e_ca," I corrected, somewhat frustrated. "And he doesn't need to be lugged around. He's quite independent by himself."

"Good," Relly said, shrugging. "He'll do great in the Games, then."

"Look," I said, my patience running low. "I know you have an alliance with Katrina, and I know she's talented with the explosives."

"Katrina's seventeen," Relly answered flatly, throwing another knife.

"Yes," I muttered. "And I have an alliance with 5."

"That's nice."

"They're strong," I insisted, nudging over at Anthea. "Anthea boxes, just like Olsen."

Ah ha, now I had her attention. She gazed at me sharply at the mention of the Career's name. "Olsen?"

"Yeah." I grinned. "They have the same, talent, shall we say. And Raymond, he's awesome with knives."

She stared at me skeptically. "Is that so? As good as me?"

"Maybe." I shrugged, letting her wonder.

Relly stood up straight and rolled her shoulders back. I tried not wince when I heard her neck crack. She barely noticed.

"Okay, 4, you've told me 'bout your friends, but what can you do?"

"Me?" She had caught me off guard. What _could_ I do? Nothing, as far as I was concerned. "What...what do you mean?"

"You're never at any of the weapons stations," She spouted. "And you're hardly ever doing anything at Survival Skills. You just kind of hang around." She saw a look of horror cross my face and smiled. "Yes, Theo and I are very observant."

"Then you should know how strong my team is." _C'mon Eleca, don't blow this now_!

"Yes," She admitted, staring down. "But I want to know what _you_ can do."

"I...I..."

"If you can't answer my question, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me to my _thing_."

"Wait," I called, just as she had begun to turn her back. I drew a deep breath and began. "I can swim-I mean I can _really_ swim. And I'm good with rope, just like Finnick. I've studied 2, and I know their habits, so why you're all busy practicing your talents, I've been doing my own observations. _That's_ what I do. I'm...I'm..."

"Sneaky?" Relly was grinning now, almost as if she was mocking me. "But you can't toss a knife?"

I felt my face flush. She was still unconvinced, I could tell by the way she laughed and mindlessly threw another perfectly aimed knife. Relly had strength, charisma, and an already strong alliance. She didn't need Anthea or Raymond, nor did she need me. But there was one thing that she and her alliance would have a hard time getting. Unlike most years where tributes from 1 and 2 took most of the sponsors, many Capitol citizens were infatuated with Finnick. He would take most of the sponsors that in any other circumstance, Relly and Theo would take.

"I know you don't need us," I said, now determined but desperate. She still wouldn't look at me. I went on, leaning forward slightly. "I know you already have brawn and strength and strategy, but...but we have something you don't."

"Oh really?"

"Yes." I gulped again. "The...the sponsors won't go to you this year."

She looked slightly insulted. "Is that so?"

"Yeah." Now _I_ smiled at her, gently placed my hand on her shoulder, and turned her in the direction of Finnick. "The boy that you called Pretty Boy, he's taking most the sponsors this year."

She laughed, but sounded nervous. "I doubt it."

"Oh yeah?" I took my hand off her shoulder and grinned. "Look at him. You saw the opening ceremonies. You know how those plastic looking people enjoy a good-looking tribute. Why do you think his stylist dresses him like that? To look like a prick? No way, it's to look good for the cameras, so that when he smiles his fans squeal. He'll get sponsors, the sponsors that usually would help you."

She was quiet for a moment, her lips pursed in thought as she threw another knife. This time it hit her target slightly off, just missing the heart. Finally, she glanced at me, a sly smile on her face.

"Maybe I'll talk to Theo and Katrina about your proposal, but I can't guarantee anything." I took that as my queue to leave, but when I went to turn away, Relly stopped me.

"Hang on, 4, one more question."

I met her brown eyes, staring with the most somber face I could manage. "Yeah?"

She glanced around the arena and thoughtfully smiled.

"Who'd you kill first?" She asked, playfully swinging the knife around. "Kid from 9? Archer from 11?"

I bit down on my lip and stared through the faces around me. How could I decide such a brutal question as that? I couldn't kill, but Relly looked serious.

"I suppose if I _had_ to kill somebody," I said quietly, pushing away the thought that only one of us could come out. "I think I'd have to choose Delanee."

I stared in contempt at the black haired girl gliding across the Gym. Relly nodded in approval and snapped her fingers.

"Very nice choice, 4. I have to admit, I wouldn't mind tossing a knife through her stupid, ebony head." She stared longingly down at the knife in her hand, then at the spider weaving her web. "But personally, I wouldn't mind taking out her buddy, Olsen."

"Olsen?"

"Yeah," She murmured, staring distastefully in Olsen's direction. "Olsen. Theo and I already agreed on him." She smiled at me, the waved her hand dismissively. "Catch ya later, 4."

"See ya."

So far, so good. I strutted back over to Finnick, a satisfied smile plastered on my face.


	7. May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor

WE HAD JUST SAT DOWN FOR LUNCH when Bristel rushed in and ordered us to arise in our District orders. It was confusing at first, but we rushed to stand and lined up in order, holding our heads high just as Bristel instructed. None of us expected what happened to occur.

President Snow strode in, his white beard thin and and beady eyes narrowed, reeking of roses and another metallic smell I couldn't quite place...almost like blood. What was _he_ doing here? I knew that he observed training from afar, but never heard of him visiting the tributes. His shoes clicked as he walked ever so calmly towards us, like we were friends instead of kids lined up to die. He nodded respectfully at Theo and Relly, of course, but refused their gazes, repeating this gesture with Olsen and Delanee and the kids from 3. He seemed uninterested, bored even, as if he was only inspecting us, calculating our odds just for the fun of it. He came to me and didn't even nod, but when he reached Finnick, he stopped, turned on his heel to face him, and stared for what seemed like a century. I could tell Finnick was getting nervous. His hand was twitching to flip back his hair like he always did when he was anxious, but he didn't displace himself from the stance Bristel had strictly instructed us to-arms by side, head straight up, back straight and shoulders broad. Finally, Snow nodded at him, his eyes scaling viciously at the boy, puncturing through whatever dignity he had left.

"You're the boy from 4, am I correct?" He asked, his voice velvety but bold.

Finnick nodded and managed to respond. "Yes...yes Sir."

Snow stared at him, a wicked look beneath his eyes, as a small smile flickered upon him. Something red had formed at the corner of his mouth, but he calmly dabbed it away, eyeing Finnick once more.

"Odair, correct?"

Finnick nodded once more, staring straight ahead so he wouldn't have to meet the President's eyes. Snow gave him one last smile before he looked to turn away.

"I wish you luck in my Games then, Finnick," He said, more cheerily than I had ever heard him. "And let the odds be ever in _your_ favor."

He walked down the rest of the line, not bothering acknowledge any of the other tributes like he had Finnick. When he finally came to the last tribute from 12-Dayzin-he turned away and smiled at Bristel, nodding in appreciation.

"That will be all, Bristel. Thank you."

With that, he left, leaving no trace of his presence besides the sickly smell of roses and a dumbfounded look on Finnick's face.

Bristel clapped her hands and gestured back to the lunch tables.

"Lunch will continue!"

We resumed what we had been doing and took our seats. Everyone was quietly chattering, excited and frightened that Snow had visited. Olsen and Delanee looked utterly lost and infuriated, blessing Finnick with bitter, twisted glances as they gossiped sourly to their new recruits from 11.

"Wow," Raymond exclaimed as we sat down. Like me and many others, Snow had nonchalantly walked by him, not even nodding. It kind of hurt. "How does it feel to be Snow's favorite tribute?"

"I'm not his favorite," Finnick snapped, poking his spaghetti with his fork.

"You're the only one he talked to," Anthea teased, taking a bite of lasagna. "He didn't even look at me."

"Or me," I added lazily.

"Or me!" Raymond piped up, sipping from his drink. "He totally favored you."

"I don't know," Finnick said, throwing his fork down. "He was kind of...creepy."

"Of course he's creepy!" Raymond grinned, patting Finnick on the back. "He's like, one hundred. What do you expect?"

"He's not one hundred, Ray," Anthea corrected colorlessly. "He's seventy-four, actually. And yes, he was creepy."

"Very," I agreed, staring at Finnick in concern. Snow's appeal hadn't seemed to make him very happy. "He looked at him like he was-"

"A piece of meat?" Finnick cut me off, his eyes burning with fire and humiliation.

"Yeah, I know. I got that vibe too."

"Oh, Finnick." Anthea sighed, shaking her head. "He's harmless. He probably just saw you tossing that spear around on the video recordings and thinks your strong."

"_Or_ he saw him strutting around in his outfit at the parade," Raymond added, biting into a bread roll. Finnick buried his head in his hands.

"I don't what to be his favorite because of how I look," he mumbled, looking up at us. "That's weird."

"And killing kids isn't?" Raymond stared into Finnick's eyes seriously, then shook his head. "Look, I'm just saying, it's not a _bad_ thing to have Prezzie Snow on your side, kid. If he likes you, can you imagine all the _people_ that adore you? And you know what people mean?"

"What?" Finnick didn't seem too excited.

Raymond continued. "That means _sponsors_. And you know what sponsors do?"

Finnick huffed. "What?"

"They give you stuff," He said, demonstrating by handing Finnick a bread roll. "They help you win. Thirsty? No problem, here's some water. Hungry? Well, us Capitol folks can't have Finnick Odair starving! Better send him some food. Injured? No problemo, take some medicine! Anything you need, they _send_. The problem, however, is _getting_ sponsors, and you already have that covered."

I think Finnick actually smiled like the old Finnick would've, crooked and cute.

Raymond grinned at him and tousled his hair.

"Atta boy!" He cheered. Finnick drew back, a full smile in place where a frown had once been.

"So that whole thing with Snow was _good_?"

"Yes!" Raymond slurped up some spaghetti and nodded.

I was about to interject that it was actually _not_ okay the way Snow had goggled Finnick, but there was a hand at my shoulder. The others stared behind me like there was a ghost, but when I glanced back, I just saw Relly, her eyes narrowed at Finnick. When she looked back at me, she nudged me up and gestured to her table.

"We need to talk," She said, her voice dead and toneless. I arose and stared nervously at Anthea, who gave me a thumbs up.

I sat down beside Relly at the Careers's table, only it wasn't exactly the Careers's table, for 2 sat over by the corner and Finnick and I were over with 5. It was like sitting down in a business meeting. The carefree attitude I had witnessed yesterday when Theo and Katrina were laughing was gone, their smiles replaced by grave expressions. I sat down next to Relly and faced Theo and Katrina. Up close, Theo was even scarier than I had imagined, with ropes of muscle and a sever buzz cut, leading down to his defined jaw and pursed lips. Katrina was thinner, but still bigger than me. She had long, lank brown waves that fell to her hips, and her eyes were small and cynical, as if she was summing everything up into one, huge math equation. Finally, Relly spoke, and now that she was free of the knife from earlier, she cupped her hands together in solemnity.

"You told me that Pretty Boy could get sponsors," She said, meeting the eyes of her friends and nodding, even though she spoke to me. "You said that people liked him."

I sucked in my breath. "They do," I answered quietly. "People love him. People have _always _loved him."

A smile escaped on Katrina's face for a moment, but she quickly masked it with a pokerface.

Theo nodded. "Yeah, but the Capitol-"

"You saw how they reacted to him at the Opening Ceremonies," I said, surprised at how bold I was. "They went crazy. They adore him."

"We already knew that," Katrina answered, her voice smooth but sharp. "But we didn't know, well, I guess how _loved_ he is."

"Honestly, 4, I wasn't really considering you," Relly said honestly, meeting my gaze. I kept up my somber face as she went on. "Sure, your group has potential. I mean, both those kids from 5 are good, sure, and Pretty Boy's not bad with a spear, but we didn't need the dead-weight. Know what I mean?"

I nodded, although really I couldn't understand what she meant at all.

Relly smiled the same playful grin from earlier. "We knew Pretty Boy would get sponsors, sure, that's pretty clear, but nothing that could truly hamper us. When Snow came in today, I think...I think it was pretty clear how much of a pull Pretty Boy _does_ have."

I frowned. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Did they call me here to tell me that Finnick had made the top of their kill list? I certainly hoped not. "Wh...what do you mean?"

"We mean," Theo leaned forward. "He's become a threat, and he's in alliance with you and 5. That makes you threats too."

Shit. So they weren't here to make friends, they wanted me to know that I had put us in hot water. I think they saw my collected expression flicker into dismay, and as I slouched back, I honestly wanted to walk away when Theo went on.

"But," he said, his eyes glittering with some sort of boyish enthusiasm. _But_? "We were talking, and Relly brought up some points that your team would be beneficial to us. We thought that if we complied with you, it would enhance our chances. If Pretty Boy is bringing in Sponsors, not only does that help him, but it helps his alliance. Instead of taking out the threat, we've decided we want to join together. You get what I'm saying?"

I was speechless, literally, I couldn't form words. I just sat there dumbly, wondering if I heard him correct.

Theo waved his hand in front of my face. "Yo, you get it?"

"I...I think so," I finally stuttered.

Katrina seemed to find the need to make it clearer. "We want an alliance with you, Pretty Boy, and 5. I believe we also have the common enemy of 2."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "We do."

Katrina smiled. "Good. That makes things easier. So, do you agree?"

"To what?"

"The alliance."

Instantly, I nodded. "I agree...I mean, _we_ agree."

"Good." Theo leaned back from his seat and grinned. "We'll strategize tomorrow during lunch."

"And training?" My question struck him with indifference.

"I'll train with the guy from 5 and Pretty Boy," He demanded.

"Their names are Raymond and Finnick," I mumbled, feeling the need to correct him.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, whatever. You stick with Katrina, and the chick from 5 and Relly can do their thing."

"But she boxes," Relly said, shaking her head. "I'm with the knives. God, Theo, you should know that by now."

He smiled-_actually_ smiled-as she pouted. "Fine, fine whatever. Isn't that guy from 5-"

"Raymond."

"Right, Raymond, he's good with knives, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Theo looked at Relly. "You work with Raymond. I'll take Pretty Boy-"

"Finnick, his name is Finnick."

"Yeah, Finnick. You go with Katrina and Anthea rides solo. Understood?"

Although it sounded silly, he was the one that had been training for this since he could walk, so I decided to go along with him. "Sounds great."

With that, I walked back over to my group, trying to contain my excitement. They stared at me with wide, eager eyes.

"What'd they want?" Raymond whispered, leaning forward.

I couldn't hold back my grin any longer. "Oh, nothing."

My group sighed sadly, but then I went on.

"They were only interested in an alliance. No big deal."

I thought Anthea was going to scream.

"What!" She exclaimed, sitting on her hands so she wouldn't pound them on the table. "They what!"

"They wanted an alliance." I smirked. "Thanks to me, and oh, Finnick."

Finnick was shocked. "_Me_? What did I do?"

"You're popular." I shrugged, watching as he blushed. "Snow's little visit made up their minds. They actually view us a threat, but they thought better to join us than fight against us."

"That's crazy!" Raymond breathed. "We're with _1_! See, I told you Snow's visit would do you good, kid."

I scornfully shook my head. "I still don't approve of the way he looked at him."

"Pervert," Anthea said under her breath but secretly, she was grinning over at Theo, Relly, and Katrina, who were enjoying a laugh again. Hopefully not about us.

"Now listen," I said, leaning forward somberly. "Theo's pretty much already made it clear he runs the alliance. He's made training arrangements and wants to strategize at lunch."

"Who made him boss?" Raymond snorted, obviously displeased at having another guy be in charge.

"Ray, shut up. He's a Career, from 1, and most likely just saved your ass by accepting us into his alliance. So you will listen to him and keep your rude words in your mouth," Anthea hissed. Raymond immediately shut up.

"What are the training arrangements?" Finnick asked quietly.

"Theo wants to train at spears with you," I told him, smiling when his face lit up. "And Raymond, you'll be training with Relly at knives."

"Aw man," He sighed. "She always hogs the station."

I ignored him. "Anthea, you are, and I quote, 'riding solo'."

"So I go alone?"

"You do your thing." I knew she was happy from the way her eyes lit up. Finally, I said,

"And I'm with Katrina. Is that clear?"

They nodded, and I smiled.

"Good. I think the odds just turned in our favor."

I felt at ease when I realized that it was true.


End file.
